Falx
by SilveringBlue
Summary: AR, SoMa. Maka can't find a partner, no matter how hard she tries, because of her rather...unique...abilities. However, falling down Shibusen's stairway and a run-in with Vlad the Impaler may actually change her luck for the better...
1. Chapter 1

_Soundtrack: _Futari no Dōkei _from _Durarara! OST Volume 1

"We can't work together, Maka. You need to find a different partner."

Maka looked down, scuffing one black boot on Shibusen Acadamy's cobblestones. She took a deep breath and raised her green eyes to her weapon partner's face. His eyes were obscured by his slitted red visor, concealing any emotion he might be feeling. "I don't want to hold you back," she agreed at last. "But- let's try one more time, Harvar."

"We've already tried five times, and each one has proved that you and I are fundamentally incompatible," Harvar said, without a perceptible change in tone. Yet despite his words, he walked over to Maka and prepared to transform into his weapon form. The dark-haired student was notorious for his emotional coldness, but Maka had hoped his strength and stability would temper her own hard-to-control abilities and allow her to finally find a partner. Unfortunately, though, she was beginning to agree with Harvar that they were incompatible. _Once more, then I'll let it go. _

Maka gave a firm tug to her white gloves as Harvar shifted to Demon Spear form in a crackle of static electricity. The setting sun, it eyes half-closed with sleepiness, sunk a little farther behind the academy, making the flame-tipped great candles that stuck out from four turrets cast a warm yellow glow over the entrance doors. For a moment, Maka imagined what it might be like to finally walk through those doors with a comrade at her side, soul linked to hers by the weapon-meister bond, wavelengths perfectly in sync.

Well, she wasn't getting any closer to that moment by daydreaming! "Ready?" she asked, squaring her shoulders with determination.

"Whenever you are," Harvar replied, his zig-zag tip shimmering for a moment to reveal his face. Maka didn't give herself a chance to think. With a shout of defiance, she grabbed Harvar's golden haft with both hands and lifted him into attack form, simultaneously attempting to synchronize wavelengths with him by sheer force of will.

But, like every other time she'd touched him, the electricity running through the Demon Spear made her muscles spasm and her hands reflexively release Harvar. At the same time, their wavelengths violently rejected each other, and Maka was flung backwards and away from him. Harvar clattered to the ground and shifted back to human form, watching her dispassionately as she knelt on Shibusen's courtyard cobblestones rubbing her tingling hands and arms and grimacing as blood oozed from her skinned elbow.

"I think I held on for a little longer this time," Maka said, trying to ignore the buzzing in her teeth and jaw. "Maybe it just takes practice!"

"Maka," Harvar said with a hint of something that could almost have been compassion, "I had my current down as low as possible. Any longer contact or higher voltage would result in tissue damage, and enough charge to incapacitate a kishin would certainly kill you."

Maka took a slow breath. She heard the echo of the words he had said earlier: "_We just can't work together." _No matter how many times it happened, she thought, she would never quite get used to the sting of rejection. "I guess you're right," she said, getting up from the grey stone and pressing one ripped and spark-eaten glove to her injured elbow. "Thank you, Harvar. I really appreciate your help."

Harvar nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow at the partnering ball."

"Right- see you."

She walked with straight shoulders and raised chin out through Shibusen's candle-adorned entrance.

* * *

><p>Five minutes and two-thirds of the long stairway later, she was regretting the brisk pace she had set on the way out. Her back, legs, and tailbone were all reminding her that she had fallen on hard stone quite a few times recently, and the tingling in her arms and jaw had been replaced by a stabbing pins-and-needles feeling.<p>

Maka had to stop and sit on the steps for a moment to catch her breath, rubbing her arms and wincing. She was glad she had persevered with Havar- she hated giving up and later thinking that it _might _have worked, if only she'd kept going- but the pummeling she'd received today, plus the many, many times she'd tried to find a partner and failed, were beginning to make her doubt that she had the talent to be a meister at all.

Unconsciously, Maka's bare left hand curled into a fist around the ruined remains of her glove. "Are there even any weapons left I haven't tried?" she whispered. Her blood hummed in her electricity-battered muscles, reminding her that there was one thing she _knew_ she could do-no. That wasn't an option. She just had to try again.

"Stop moping, Maka!" she told herself, and bounced to her feet. Well, tried to bounce. She was so stiff, it was more like creaking. She turned, stumbled-

-and abruptly mashed her face into something soft, prickly, and white. After one extremely confused moment in which she was struck with the firm conviction that _yes, _the darned stairs were _entirely _too high if there were clouds using them, too, Maka realized that it was some sort of absurdly thick hair and jerked backwards, eliciting a surprised "Huh-?" from her victim.

The owner of the cloud hair turned and saw her on the edge of the ridiculous stairs, her arms flailing like a windmill as she tried to compensate for her movement without falling. One of his hands shot out and grabbed Maka, hauling her back to safety with a yelp from her and a grunt from him. They overbalanced, teetering for a moment. Then, because today was obviously the day for all of Maka's bad luck sucker punch her at once, she felt her foot slip off the edge. For a slow-motion moment, they wavered, the guy leaning against Maka's weight and _almost _managing to pull her back. Whether he might have if given a moment more, though, quickly became a moot point as gravity reasserted itself and sent the pair bouncing and rolling painfully down the last flight of stairs. Maka got disoriented glimpses of sky, white hair, stairs, yellow fabric, and more sky as she flailed in a fruitless attempt to stop herself.

There was a tremendous, nails-on-chalkboard screech, then both of them hit the ground andstopped falling with a thump. Maka, winded, just lay there on the wonderfully _flat _road. She was dizzy and even more bruised than before, to judge by the way every part of her ached with its own particular throb. How she was even going to move tomorrow escaped her. Actually, scratch that- moving right _now _posed some questions up there with the meaning of life and how much wood a woodchuck could chuck.

As she was turning over impossible questions, a strange voice moaned right in her ear. Maka suddenly found that surprises were excellent for solving muscle-moving problems- in particular, for making her shoulder smack someone in the face as she whipped around. "OW! Dammit!"

"Ah- I'm sorry! Are you all right?" Maka exclaimed, pushing herself to a sitting position and getting her first true look at the guy she had pulled down Shibusen's staircase. There wasn't much to see. He had curled into a ball, groaning, his hands clutching his nose and covering his face. She did find out that he was wearing a yellow jacket with a stylized black soul on the back and that his hair was indeed pure white and ridiculously thick, sticking out from his head in chunky tufts. Wait- pure white? Could she have run into someone's grandpa?

Maka sat up and patted the old guy worriedly on the shoulder, forgetting her own aches and pains. "Are you hurt, grandfather? Should I call an ambulance?"

The old man uncurled and sat up, much quicker than she would have expected for someone his age. "Haah? _Grandfather?" _ The face that confronted hers was shocking. For a moment, she thought his eyes were bleeding- his irises were a vibrant crimson even in the dim light. _Contact lenses?_ And his skin appeared smooth and firm, without a wrinkle in sight- in fact, the guy staring at her looked like he was the same age as she was. Maka was so taken aback, she could only blink dumbly for a moment. "You think I'm your _grandfather?" _he reiterated, giving her an indignant look.

"…No," she managed, taken aback and a bit annoyed herself. "I mean, it's a figure of speech-"

The white-haired boy grunted, but this time in a mollified way. "It's the hair, I guess. Everyone thinks I look like some freakin' old guy."

Maka nodded and winced a bit, both at her mistake and at the effect of the motion on her blossoming headache. "Sorry about that- and about knocking you over."

"Eh, cool guys aren't bothered by falling downstairs." He stood with a groan and offered her a hand up; Maka took it gratefully and was hauled to her feet. She noticed in the process that her gloves had disappeared somewhere down the line, along with one of bands holding her shoulder-length hair in her customary pigtails. It was a very odd sensation to have one half of her neck covered by hair and the other bare. Luckily, she usually carried an extra hairband in one of her skirt pockets, and it hadn't disappeared during her exertions with Harvar or her stairway roller coaster ride.

As she began to try to put the offending hair back up with hands that had progressed from pins-and-needles to weirdly numb, the boy exclaimed and took hold of her wrist, twisting it around to get a better look at her left arm.

"Hey!" Maka protested, dropping the band and pulling back. But he held on firmly until she looked at her arm and noticed the long, diagonal cut on the inside of her forearm slowly leaking blood onto her ripped white shirtsleeve. "Huh," she said stupidly. "I didn't even notice that."

The boy grimaced, let her go, and began ripping a piece off the t-shirt under his jacket. "Sorry-it's my fault."

"Your fault?"

"Yeah," he said, taking possession of her arm again and swiftly wrapping the cotton strip he had torn from his hem around the wound as a makeshift bandage. "I tried to stop us on the way down, but my blade got twisted."

Maka nodded, suddenly understanding the origin of the nails-on-a-blackboard sound. She wondered idly what kind of weapon he was. "…Done," he said, shoving the edge of the bandage into the wrapping. "C'mon, let's find a hospital to do it right."

"What's your name?" Maka asked, having taken the opportunity to inspect him and concluding that he was a newcomer to the academy. "I haven't seen you around Shibusen before. Do you have a meister?"

"Huh?" he said, thrown by the topic change. "That's not important right now. Getting your arm fixed is."

"I'll be okay like this," Maka said. "You don't need to do that. In fact, I've got to go home anyway, so thanks for the bandage and-"

"Like hell," he said, scowling and sticking one hand in his pocket. "It was my fault. I can't just leave you- that would be totally uncool. I've got a bike over there-" a jerk of the thumb indicated it- "so I'll take you to a hospital." He headed towards the place where his motorcycle was locked to a lamppost, obviously intending to get it and show her he was sincere. "M'name's Soul," he added, turning around and walking backwards for a few paces.

"Maka. Nice to meet you," Maka said with a smile. "I really am fine like this, though. It's not deep," she added, cautiously releasing the pressure she had kept on the cut. "See, it's barely even bleeding anymore."

Soul stopped, then came back and inspected the cut for himself once more. "Want a ride home, anyway?"

Maka weighed the options- get on a motorcycle with a virtual stranger, though one who was obviously pretty nice under his grumpy attitude, versus walking all the way home in the dark after having been utterly pummeled that day. The former won hands-down. Sure, maybe this Soul was actually a total creep who was trying to abduct her (though she seriously doubted it), but she'd fought almost all of the Shibusen students in her tenure at the academy and won the majority of those battles. She could easily defend herself from a newcomer, weapon or not.

"Thanks," she said, and followed Soul.

* * *

><p>The motorcycle seat was cold and slightly damp with dew, making Maka wish she had brought her trenchcoat. She'd never actually ridden a motorcycle before, but didn't want to admit it, so she hopped on behind Soul without hesitation. Starting the engine, Soul glanced back at her and said, "You should probably hang on."<p>

Maka pretended not to hear. No _way _was she going to hug him! She'd just use her knees to keep her balance. After a moment, Soul shrugged, shifted gears, and stepped on the accelerator. All of a sudden, they were racing through the night at a breakneck speed, wind hitting Maka's face like a physical blow. She yelped and flung her arms around Soul.

Hanging on grimly was the only way she escaped falling off as Soul skidded around tight corners, swerved between uneven cobblestones, and treated open stretches and byways as chances to see how far he could push the bike's thrumming engine.

"SLOW DOWN, SOUL!" she yelled in his ear. The bike squealed in protest as Soul slammed on the brakes, skidding sideways with a sickening wobble and a cloud of burnt-rubber smoke. "I didn't mean like _that! _How did you even get your drivers' license?"

"I was trying not to hit someone!" Soul grumbled. "He just appeared out of nowhere."

Maka peered around his jacket and saw a figure standing perfectly still in the middle of the road a few yards away. The person, whoever it was, was wearing a long fur robe as well as a pointed cap and stood with his back to them. "Sir…?" she called out tentatively after a moment. The figure didn't even twitch.

Soul tried, too. "Oi, would you mind moving? We have to get through there."

"You do not show proper respect, boy." The figure's voice was flat, male, and slightly nasal, with an accent Maka couldn't quite place. An alarm bell jangled faintly in her head, and for no conscious reason she began feeling for the small knife she usually carried.

"Haah?" Soul said, annoyed. "You're the one jaywalking here." Her knife wasn't in its usual place in her left combat boot. Had it fallen out?

For the first time, the figure moved. It pivoted slowly around to face them, a crooked streetlamp casting a yellow light on its face.

"_Shit_," Soul whispered, tensing.

The man's face was sharply angled, with a long black mustache whose perfect curl matched the Lord-Fauntleroy-esque black ringlets trailing over his shoulders. Atop his head, his pointy cap was adorned with a gold star and five huge pearls. His nose swooped down like an eagle's beak; his eyes were surprisingly large.

And in each hand, the man held a long wooden stake whose ends were stained and dripping with blood.

"Do you not know how to bow down to royalty, peasant?" he said coldly, and paused as if to wait for their answer.

Sudden recognition hit Maka like one of Harvar's shocks. "Soul, that's Vlad the Impaler," she hissed. "I heard about him on the radio this morning. One of the most vicious uncaught souls roaming Death City-"

Soul gunned the engine and roared into a wide turn, the tires whining as the bike fishtailed for a moment before regaining balance and racing away from the evil soul as fast as Soul could make it go. "Shit," he cursed again, then muttered, "Two student weapons without a meister against a high-level evil soul-"

The sound of flapping cloth interrupted him. Soul was forced to come to a screeching halt again as Vlad the Impaler glided smoothly over them and landed at the end of the narrow street, blocking the only exit.

"Disrespectful peasants must be punished," he stated, advancing on the motorcycle with a slow, majestic tread.

"Soul, you're wrong, I'm not a weapon!" Maka said hurriedly.

"Huh?"

"I'm not a weapon. I'm a meister."

"What, really?"

"Of course," she said, indignant, and slid off the bike to face the oncoming evil soul. Vlad the Impaler stopped for a moment.

"Are you volunteering, girl?" he asked, his mouth parting and tongue flickering out to delicately lick his lips. For a moment, his incisors were exposed and Maka's eyes widened in surprise. His teeth were unnaturally long and pointed, curving down almost to his lower jaw like a vampires'. Vlad saw her shock and deliberately smiled wider.

"Let us pass or pay the price, Vlad the Impaler!" Maka said, feeling the slow burn of anger rising in her throat. The evil soul threw back his head and laughed derisively.

"_Are you freaking insane?"_ Soul hissed.

"It's our only option," she told him, keeping her eyes on Vlad. He had finished his laughing fit and was now staring at the two teenagers with a bored look, apparently content to let them talk. "We can't escape him like this, so it's either fight or die."

Soul shook his head. "There's no guarantee we'd be able to fight together. I've got a better idea- I'll hold him off and you get help."

"You wouldn't be able to do that," Maka argued heatedly. "You'd be killed in three seconds-"

"Your idea would get us killed in two, Tiny Tits!"

"_What did you just call me_?" Maka growled, readying her famous Maka Chop.

"Enough talk," Vlad snapped, and attacked.

He came in a swift, darting motion, and only his words gave Maka enough warning to throw herself to the side and avoid the plunging stakes. She rolled as she fell and came up standing, just in time to avoid Vlad's next rush. "Soul!" she yelled. "Transform _now!"_

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the telltale flash, and light came darting across the street and into her hands. Vlad flinched back, hissing, as Maka stared at Soul's weapon form. _A scythe? _Surely it would be impossible for her to wield one of those! Yet she was holding it with no ill effects so far. Could it be that she'd been taking the wrong tack with managing her abilities?

What she'd thought was a decorative eye design on the shaft of the weapon suddenly blinked and rolled to focus on her. "You planning on actually using me, meister?" said Soul, his voice overlaid with metallic tones.

"Definitely," Maka said firmly. Hefting the weapon a couple times, she spun Soul from one hand to the other. He felt good in her grip- pleasantly heavy and solid, the blade perfectly balanced on the shaft. She grinned suddenly, aches and pains utterly forgotten in the rush of the moment. It was all or nothing now, her first real fight outside of Shibusen, no one to help but her weapon and no one to blame for any failures but herself.

She'd been dreaming of this day for _ages. _

With a yell of defiance, Maka attacked.

* * *

><p><em>AN- Cliffhanger, heh. I always write those for some reason. *evil* Anyway, obviously this is alternate reality (but not alternate universe). Less obviously it may contain SoMa and various other pairings later on, though no promises on how large a part they'll play and how much they'll progress._

_Much gratitude to Cha's Aegis and her Plot Tinkerer's Emporium forum for help. Without her, this wouldn't have been written. Thanks for setting those plot bunnies going again, Cha! ^.^_

_Please review and concrit if possible, I'd love to hear how I'm doing on my first SE fic. Thank you for reading! _


	2. Chapter 2

_Soundtrack: _Raise Your Weapon (Madeon Remix) _Artist: _Deadmau5

Vlad the Impaler leaped back as Maka attacked with a yell. His thick fur cloak flapped slowly as he jumped in an impossibly high, slow arc, soaring over her head as lightly as a dandelion seed. Maka spun and darted for his projected landing place, intending to slice him as he came down.

"Watch out!" Soul barked, and Maka looked up to see Vlad fling one of his stakes at her like a spear. For a single moment, she panicked. Her mind went utterly blank as she tried to figure out how to escape, dithering between diving left or right. Soul, sensing this, abruptly shifted back to human form. Not even trying break his fall, he bore Maka down by sheer weight. They crashed to the cobblestones together as the stake missed her head by inches and stuck itself, quivering, into the solid stone. Obviously these stakes were not your average impaling implement.

"Sorry," she gasped, as Soul flashed back to a scythe again in her grip.

"Just keep your eyes open, meister," he told her, voice tense. Vlad lit gently on the curling post of a streetlight and immediately pushed off again, speeding low over the ground towards Maka with stakes bristling from both hands.

She braced herself for his attack, twirling Soul in her hands twice until the weight of his blade was poised for defense. With a hiss, Vlad was upon her. Stakes struck at her and she knocked them aside, sparks flying from the scythe. For what felt like simultaneously a very long and a very short time, Maka was filled with nothing but ferocious concentration as she matched her opponent slash for stab. His rank, old-blood musk curled at the back of her panting mouth and made her wish she had the breath to cough it out.

Abruptly, both of them were arrested in their flow of motion, Vlad's crossed stakes striving against the shaft of the scythe as the two locked wills and strength. Maka gritted her teeth as she was slowly driven back, but she didn't dare disengage for fear of the opening it would give her enemy. Vlad's face was barely inches away from hers and this close, the illusion of humanity crumbled. His eyes were utterly crazed. His skin, too, was inhuman, waxy and weirdly poreless. Even his hair looked more like it was carved than grown, since each curl was as smooth as his skin, without any evidence of individual hairs.

"I will eat your soul, little girl," he panted, lips stretching into an open-mouthed grin and revealing rows of perfect, tiny fangs. "I wonder how it will taste? Soft and tender, like you?"

To Maka's absolute, skin-chilling horror, his tongue slid out like a snake's and gave her a leisurely lick on the cheek. She shrieked, disengaged, and pivoted as fast and hard on her left foot as she could. Soul's blade came around in a deadly arc, whistling as the air rushed past his edges, and sliced into Vlad the Impaler's back. For a moment, he seemed to bend backwards over the scythe, arms flying up with an expression of complete surprise on his face, giving Maka a moment of panic as she considered the idea that Soul's blade couldn't cut him. But then, to her enormous relief, he exploded into hundreds of swirling black ribbons that quickly condensed into a floating sphere with a dull red glow.

Maka stood in place, panting from the adrenaline rush. _She'd actually killed her first evil soul!_ The first one ever and she'd beaten him as a meister! All was definitely not hopeless.

"We did it, Soul!" she said, giving the scythe shaft a companionable squeeze.

There was a zig-zag flash of light and Soul slid down to the cobbles with a sigh of relief. "I thought you'd be killed any moment," he grumbled. "Honestly, woman, do you have a death wish?

Maka laughed and, dizzy with happiness, ruffled Soul's crazy white hair. "Oi," he protested, getting up to avoid her hand. This brought him to stand right in front of the floating red sphere of the former Vlad the Impaler. He took its little tail between two fingers experimentally. "Oi, what are we supposed to do with this?"

"Eat it, of course," Maka said, puzzled. "It'll get rid of the evil soul for good."

"_Eat _it?" Soul sputtered, releasing the evil soul with a look of revulsion on his face. It bobbed like an apple in water, its dim red aura flickering. "You trying to poison me?"

"Didn't you pay any attention in class?" Maka asked. "That's what weapons _do. _It stops the souls from regenerating. Kishin Prevention 101. Here, my textbook's in my bag somewhere-_"_

"Bullshit," Soul said flatly. "I am _not _putting that in my mouth. And for your information, Miss Smartypants, I haven't been to any Shibusen classes yet."

"Darn it, I forgot my bag," Maka complained. "I hope Harvar picked it up." Then her brain caught up with her ears. "What? You haven't taken any classes?"

"Yeah. I was on my way back from an interview with Death when you knocked us down the stairs."

"That was an accident! And _anyway_, we can't leave that thing floating around or else it might turn into Vlad again."

"So, then, _you _eat it," Soul said with (to her mind) over-exaggerated patience.

"I'm a meister, stupid. Only weapons can eat those…" Maka flinched and her voice trailed away.

"What?"

"…Nothing," she muttered, and made an effort to regain her pique. "Fine, don't believe me. You can fight Vlad by yourself when he turns back. I'm going home." She turned and marched away indignantly.

"Hey, wait! That's my bike! You can't just _take _it- oi, do you even know how to ride it?"

"I've read about it."

"Ugggh," Soul groaned, sticking a hand into his hair and making it even wilder than it was.

"Why do I have the bad karma to bump into the stubbornest person in the whole Death City?" he asked the sky, apparently addressing whatever gods were listening.

"Is the ignition this little slot here?" Maka asked, poking uncertainly at the slot in question with the keys Soul had left on the seat.

"Uggggggh," he groaned again. "_Fine_, I'll eat the stupid soul! I'm warning you, though: you have to pay the funeral bill. This is so uncool."

Without waiting for an answer, he grasped the soul's tail between thumb and forefinger again, inspecting it dubiously.

"Go on," Maka said encouragingly, slipping off the bike's seat to watch.

Soul gave her a look out of corner of his eye, but he brought the soul closer to his mouth and gave it a lick. One of his eyebrows lifted.

"Hey, it doesn't taste too bad. Not like poison, anyway." Soul lifted the soul in the air, opened his mouth widely, and dropped it in. Maka waited while he chewed slowly and swallowed.

Then, Soul's eyes opened wide with surprise. Suddenly there was a noise like a heartbeat plugged into the world's loudest amplifier and for an instant, everything was highlighted in a flash of light that turned the world into a Technicolor photo negative. Maka had to blink rapidly to get rid of the purple spots it left behind, and when she did, she saw Soul making the air hum with the slashes of a blade he'd materialized from his forearm. On his face was a grin that would make most people look stupid, but with his shark teeth, it was actually more than a bit frightening.

"Soul?" she asked.

He turned to her with that scary grin, but when he met her eyes it changed and become merely goofy. "You were right!" he announced. "I can totally feel the power increase. This is so cool. I've got to sign up for some more classes."

"Signing up doesn't help you learn, it's actually _taking _them that helps," Maka said pointedly. "And actually, speaking of taking things-" she poked at the key slot again. "could you get this thing to take me home? Without running in to more evil souls on the- ah, it started."

Soul yelped and leaped across the distance to regain control of his purring bike. "Don't start it if you're not sitting on it! Actually, don't start it if you don't even have the slightest clue how to drive it!"

"Well, if some people would actually..."

Maka trailed off into a yawn, saving her from having to compose a snappy comeback. The adrenaline of the fight had begun to fade, leaving her all too aware of her growing collection of bruises, cuts, and pulled muscles. Surprisingly, Soul noticed and became a bit more contrite, giving her a hand up onto the seat of the bike and asking the number of her apartment without any sarcastic comments.

As they sped down cobbled roads, gas streetlights flickering with the wind of their passage, Maka felt herself growing drowsy despite the early hour. Her head drooped forward until her cheek brushed the black leather of Soul's jacket. She jerked back up, blinking hard. Falling asleep on a motorcycle did not sound like the safest course of action, especially with the way Soul took corners.

"How'd you get a motorcycle?" she asked, more to keep herself awake than from any true curiosity. She felt him shrug.

"Went to South Dakota for the license a couple years ago and bought it there."

"Is that even legal?" 

"Nah, not really."

"What'll happen if you get caught?" 

"By what, the hundreds of cops in Death City?" Maka heard the amusement in his voice and had to agree with the sentiment. Though Death City was many things, including dangerous, anachronistic, and idiosyncratic, one thing it was definitely short on was any sort of organized police force. This was probably because Shibusen students kept a sort of order among those evil enough to turn into Kishins, and the petty criminals avoided the place because of the monsters on the streets and the way that outside-manufactured technology tended to go haywire in the presence of the constant soul waves from Shibusen.

The bike coasted to a stop, Soul adding a little skid to back wheel. "Ride's over," he told her. Maka slid slowly off the seat, groaning a little. "You okay?"

"Yeah, thank you. Just a little stiff." She turned to the door and pulled her keys out of her skirt pocket, very grateful that she had thought to button the little flap that morning so that they wouldn't fall out.

Pausing in the opened door, Maka turned to Soul. He was waiting on the idling motorcycle. "Thanks for everything, Soul. And sorry for falling on top of you earlier."

He made a "it's nothing" gesture. "Thanks for saving our butts earlier from that creepy dude."

"Oh, that was mostly you," Maka protested, blushing a little at the praise.

"A weapon can't do a thing without a meister," he argued. "Call it even at least."

"Okay," Maka yawned. She was way too tired to press the issue. "See you at Shibusen tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow's the weekend," Soul said blankly.

"The partnering ball?" Maka reminded him, one eyebrow raised.

"Ohhhshit I forgot!" Soul clutched at his hair, muttering, "Uncool, uncool."

"Relax, it's not such a big deal," Maka advised. "It's just getting dressed up and standing around talking. You don't have to dance if you don't want to."

"Yeah, but it's the 'dressing up' that's the problem. I forgot to pick up my tuxedo and the cleaner doesn't work tomorrow and closes in, like-" Soul checked his wristwatch "-ohshit fifteen minutes!" He gunned the accelerator and fishtailed wildly for a second, but then the tires got a grip on the cobbles and Soul sped away in a cloud of dust. As he turned the corner, he lifted one hand in a wave to her.

Maka looked after him for a moment, reliving again the way he had felt in her hands as they sliced through her first evil soul. As a human, he wasn't the most cheerful or openly friendly person she'd ever met...but as a scythe, there was something there that connected with her meister blood in a way that no one before had done. Even her best friend Tsubaki Nakatsukasa, who was a multi-talented weapon and with whom Maka had spent her longest time partnered, hadn't felt so good to wield. The overwhelming conviction that this, at last, could be her weapon was impossible to ignore. She smiled a bit ruefully.

_Just my luck that even though I've spent so much time running away from the scythe, it finds me in the end._

.

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Sorry about the delay, guys! I had this chapter almost entirely written, but then I got grounded. :( Next chapter will certainly be up in less time.

Thanks for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and alerting! It means a lot to me that people enjoy my writing. Don't forget to give concrit if you can! ^.^


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